Touch of the Demon (24 page)

“
Chikdah
,” he murmured as I returned, followed by something else that probably was not
Thank you, oh so much!
I didn’t need to know the language to know that “chikdah” meant “cunt” or something equally charming. Yeah, this asshole was a regular sweetheart.

Too late, I remembered that the lords could still read surface thoughts. Amkir’s eyes blazed with anger as he snatched the glass from my hand. Before I had time to even flinch, he threw the wine in my face, then hurled the glass toward the wall.

I gasped in shock. “Are you
fucking
kidding me? What is your goddamn issue, asshole?” Instantly, I knew my response was a mistake. It was as if I watched the words come out of my mouth in slow motion, completely unable to stop the torrential flow.

Amkir snarled in what could only be satisfaction. With lightning speed he lifted a hand and open-hand slapped me in a strike that sent me staggering. Even as I reeled back he stepped toward me, hand raised for another strike. I lashed out at him with a punch to the chest that sent him stumbling back awkwardly…

…and I suddenly realized that I hadn’t actually touched him.

Grove power thrummed through and over me as I faced Amkir. I was pretty sure I looked awesome as shit, glowy and all, but I wasn’t about to stop and check myself out in the nearest mirror.

Black fury filled Amkir’s face as he recovered. Strands of potency like long writhing whips coalesced in one fist as he regained his footing, and I had no doubt he intended to put my ass
down
.

I heard Rhyzkahl shout something in demon. I couldn’t understand the word, yet I had a sense of the meaning nonetheless—an unexpected benefit of holding the grove power.
Hold
or something close to it. But Amkir either didn’t hear or chose to ignore him. Snarling, he drew back his hand and lashed the whips of potency toward me.

Crying out, I threw my hands up while I struggled to form the power I held into some sort of block or shield. Rhyzkahl moved with demonic lord speed, catching Amkir’s wrist so that only three of the lashes barely grazed me. Even the light graze stung like crazy. Rhyzkahl snarled something to Amkir, the gist of which seemed to be “stand down.”

“Kara Helene Gillian. Subside now,” Rhyzkahl said over his shoulder in an
I am SO not fucking around
voice.

I held the power, breath coming raggedly, but I knew there was no way for me to win this. I was going to have to trust Rhyzkahl to keep Amkir from turning me into bloody mist. I released the power and straightened, controlling the shudder as normal sensation returned. I gave Amkir a parting sneer and turned, back prickling as I stalked to the door, absolutely certain that I’d get a ball of power between the shoulder blades any second now. I was almost shocked to reach the door unscathed.

As soon as I ducked through and shut the door behind me I began to tremble.
What the fuck just happened?
I wondered,
utterly bewildered and shaken. I began to pace in an attempt to burn off the excess adrenaline. What the hell had I done to warrant that attack?

My steps slowed as I felt a flare of potency beyond the door. I heard and felt a
crack
, and then the potency faded, only to be replaced by voices raised in argument. I wasn’t holding the grove power anymore, but some of the sense of the words still came through to me. Something from Amkir about some important thing that had to be completed, and something from Rhyzkahl about getting the fuck out of his fucking palace.

I felt a change of pressure in the air behind me. I spun, expecting another attack, but to my shock it was a syraza, swaying and breathing heavily.

I stared for barely a split second before throwing myself at her and wrapping her in an embrace. I’d only seen her in syraza form for a couple of minutes after I’d summoned her back on Earth, but I knew without a doubt who this was.

“Eilahn,” I said, nearly crying in relief at the sight of her. “Holy shit, you’re okay. I missed you. Oh, man.” Okay, maybe I was really crying.

She chimed in worried tones and wrapped arms around me. “What have you done? What have they done?”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I said, gulping back tears of relief and joy. “I didn’t grovel when I was supposed to, I guess, and one of those dickwad lords tried to smack me down.” I held her close, so insanely glad to have her here. “Rhyzkahl stopped him, but I wasn’t going down without a fight.” I gave a weak laugh.

She pulled back enough to run hands over me and search my face, as if making absolutely certain I was untouched. “Here is more complicated than Earth because you do not know all the rules,” she told me, but her eyes were dark with worry.

I grimaced and nodded. “Yeah, I’m starting to see that.” I pushed back the wave of homesickness and hugged her again. “I’m so damn glad to see you.” A tremble went through her, and I looked up at her, worried. “Are you all right?” Now I could see that she seemed almost transparent, without the lovely shimmering vibrancy the other syrazas had. “Do you need to sit?”

She folded not very gracefully to a semi cross-legged position,
one knee pulled up against her chest. “Better thus, Kara. I left stasis when I felt your distress, but I will be all right for a while. You sit and tell me what happened.” Her eyes stayed upon me, assessing.

I sat down beside her, and she curled a wing around me. I gave her a rundown of what happened, trying hard not to leave out any detail in case she could point out something I’d done to set the asshole lord off.

“Amkir most assuredly goaded you,” Eilahn said once I’d finished. “Yet I cannot fathom why.” She tilted her head and gave me a
look
that told me she knew just how I could be when pushed. She trilled and chimed softly. “To assure that you were not harmed, Lord Rhyzkahl laid hands upon Amkir.” She made a sharp little sound. “Intervention by arcane means would have been a much cleaner way. Not as many complications. It would have certainly stopped Amkir, though it may not have done so before he loosed upon you.” She shook her head, then let out a soft, trilling laugh. “You do get yourself into trouble when I am not with you, do you not?”

I smiled weakly. “It’s my nature.” Then I gave a soft sigh. “I’m so glad you’re all right.” My brow furrowed. “You
are
all right, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Kara. Very much so, though I will need to return to stasis soon. Do not worry.” She gave me a squeeze with arms and wing.

She felt like barely a wisp in my arms as I hugged her back. Releasing a shuddering breath I stood, worried about her despite her admonition. “I’m okay. I promise,” I assured her. “You go back. I’m all right here, and Rhyzkahl’s sending me back home tomorrow.”

She reached and took hold of my hand, worry in her face seeming to deepen. “If you return to Earth, stay within wards until I can return. I must abide in stasis for a time yet. At least a month of your time most likely. You
must
try to summon me every day until I come to you. No place is truly safe, but there you are terribly exposed.” Her hand tightened on mine. “Give me your oath that you will do this—remain behind wards until you summon me.”

Nodding, I squeezed her hand. “Eilahn, I give you my oath that I will hunker down in my house and be a regular
hermit until you can come back and be my kickass demon bodyguard again.”

A small measure of the worry in her expression abated, yet she didn’t smile. “Oh, Kara, I must go. Please take care, and look deep into your essence to know who to trust.”

And then she was gone. I stood motionless for a moment, while I turned her words over in my head. Who to trust? Frowning, I left the antechamber and headed away from the great hall. Right now, I only trusted the people who didn’t want to hurt me. That seemed simple enough.

Alone, I made my way back to the library with the intent of finding something with which to pass the rest of the day and also, hopefully, to avoid contact with any other damn lords. My thigh still stung from Amkir’s lash, and I had no doubt that his slap had left a bruise on my cheek. Assholes, all of them. Even Rhyzkahl for not putting a stop to it sooner.

The library held tomes, scrolls, and normal-sized books too, as well as a variety of unknown gadgets and even a section of Earth clocks, most really really old. Paintings hung in alcoves and on the walls, some reminding me of styles I’d seen on Earth. Many, I was sure, were Szerain’s work. There were even framed photographs of Earth subjects—the Eiffel Tower, an aerial of the Giza plateau, details of the Great Wall of China, and so much more. But more intriguing were photographs of places, creatures, and demons of the demon realm. That started a whole cascade of speculation on the acquisition of it all. With the mix of books, art, and artifacts, I decided this was a combination library and museum.

I didn’t understand how the library was organized, but after a bit of wandering I managed to locate a large section of books that were written in something other than the demon language. Wards flickered along the shelves, and I quickly realized that they were there to protect the books from the various ravages of time. This place was a rare book dealer’s wet dream. There were books in damn near every Earth language, including some I wasn’t sure even existed anymore, and some ancient, handwritten volumes that I had no doubt predated the invention of the printing press. Many of the English language books were in an old English that proved difficult to read, but I eventually located a section of
more modern English, including fiction titles of everything from Harry Potter to John Steinbeck to paperback romances. I grinned at the thought of a zhurn curled up reading a book with Fabio on the cover.

I spied a copy of
The Hobbit
and pulled it off the shelf. Ryan loved this sort of stuff, so maybe it was worth a try. There was a comfy-looking chaise near the end of the stacks, and I headed that way. But an alcove caught my eye before I reached the chaise, and I paused. Like the other alcoves, it held a picture of some sort, though this one was covered, draped in dark red silk.

Curious, I pulled the silk aside and off, revealing the sweet face of Elinor on the painting beneath. The painting exuded
life
, marking it most likely as a work of Szerain. Elinor stood on steps, her hand resting on a luminescent column, and blue sky behind her framed by more columns.
The ruins before they were ruins
, I realized. She wore a simple, pretty dress of rich green that seemed to shimmer though it was only paint. Her eyes reflected life and innocence and wonder, and her mouth curved in a smile that seemed to touch me centuries later.

“It should remain covered,” Rhyzkahl said from behind me.

I startled, then turned with a mild scowl. “She was a pretty girl. Why do you hide her away like this?”

Face tight, he passed by me and picked up the red silk. “Because I prefer it that way,” he said, reaching high and re-covering the painting.

I folded my arms over my chest. “Why? Because you want to forget all about her?”

He remained with his back to me, hands gripping the sides of the frame. “I cannot forget her,” he said, voice low and dark. “And I require no reminder.”

I stayed silent for a moment, feeling the pain in his voice. “How did she die?” I finally asked. “I’ve been told it was because of the gate, but…” Flickers of memory stirred in confusing patterns. “But there was more. I
know
it.”

Rhyzkahl gripped the frame hard enough to dislodge the cover again. Elinor smiled out as the silk puddled to the floor like a pool of blood. “There was a disruption in the ritual and it spiraled out of control.” He seemed to force the words out
between his teeth. “She could not stop it. Szerain could not stop it, and she died.”

“And you have no idea what that disruption was?” I persisted. “Was it something she did? Or was it Szerain?” I knew I poked at a tender spot, yet my lingering anger about the incident in the main foyer urged me on. “Did you train her? Was she prepared to do this gate? Mzatal said she wasn’t much of a summoner, so why was she doing something like this in the first place?”

Rhyzkahl let out a shuddering breath. “Mzatal released her from training.” He lifted the cover back over the portrait, then turned to face me. “Szerain and I trained her. She was well enough prepared for her part in the ritual.” He paused, anger flashing briefly over his face. “Szerain failed in his support.”

My eyes narrowed. “What
was
her part in the ritual?”

“Simply to open the gateway,” he said. “Nothing more. Szerain had all other aspects.” His right hand clenched into a fist and a muscle leaped in his jaw. “He proceeded without my leave.”

I snorted. “Seems a lot of lords do things without your leave.” My cheek still ached with the evidence of that.

“Amkir,” he murmured, as if only now remembering that I’d been struck. He came closer and laid a hand on my cheek. “They do not do so without reprisal.”

“Oh, please,” I said, scowling. “What, you’ll give him a slap on the wrist? He was a complete
dick
to me, for no reason! He’d have seriously hurt me if you hadn’t grabbed his damn arm in time. Then what? ‘Oh, Amkir, you naughty boy. You broke my toy!’”

But Rhyzkahl shook his head. “It is not a ‘slap on the wrist,’ as you phrase it. He suffers my retribution even now.”

“And what would that be?” I asked, dubious.

“It involves power flows and is not a matter for humans…even you, dear one. He suffers.” Anger stirred behind his eyes, and I found myself believing that Rhyzkahl truly had smacked Lord Asshole down.

Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair. “Why did he do that to me?” I asked, still utterly baffled. “I mean…it was like he hated me from first sight. Did I do something?”

Rhyzkahl dropped his hand from my cheek then
crouched and ran it over my thigh, easing the sting from the lashes. “Amkir needs no reason,” he said, straightening again. “He can most assuredly be harsh with humans.”

“Then why did you leave me alone with him?” I asked, annoyed again. “He was hostile from the start, even while you were still there.”

“He has been long from humans and overstepped bounds he would never have touched in the past. I misjudged his response.” Regret colored his voice. “He will not err thus again, nor will I.”